


Trials and Tribulations

by Madizenmadi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is tired, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Nationverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madizenmadi/pseuds/Madizenmadi
Summary: It's taken Arthur nearly five hundred years to read Alfred. He uses this acquired knowledge to help ease the tension from Alfred's shoulders.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Trials and Tribulations

How had time passed so quickly?

Arthur seemed to ask himself that question every time he saw the American.

It was both a moment and an eternity that turned Alfred from that small, innocent child in a hopeful field, to a man holding the world on his shoulders with nothing but a grin of his pearly white teeth and a twinkle in his childish blue eyes. 

Roughly five-hundred years lead to a relationship as strong as he had with the American. Five-hundred years for Arthur to watch his personality develop, for Arthur to understand and read the man, who showed an overabundance of what he wanted others to see, and expertly hid what no one wanted to see. 

Arthur could see those same traits now; the traits of a man in hiding: his strong hands trembled in removing his clothing, his forehead had lines from his eyebrows creasing, his eyes were distant - a thousand-yard-stare, his mouth twitched every now and then in an effort to keep what he wanted to scream at ease. Arthur hated to see him in pain. 

The Briton released a breath and parted the covers, moving to place his feet on the shaggy carpet of Alfred's bedroom floor. Alfred didn't even notice his movements, he kept his stare on the floor and focused on his thoughts rather than what his hands were doing. The such caused him to almost trip if not for Arthur gripping his sturdy arm to steady him. His blue gaze finally cleared and he seemed to finally notice he was putting his pants on backwards. Alfred let out an irritated puff of air and turned them around, slipping them back up his tan legs. 

"Alfred," was all Arthur said. The American's gaze flitted to his, tired and screaming for a break. Arthur traced his thumb on Alfred's warm skin, attempting in any subtle way to calm him without him noticing; Alfred hung onto his pride at all times, and Arthur wasn't going to let him lose it now when he was already digging himself into a hole.

Sometimes, Alfred just needed to lose the tension that always bit at his broad shoulders. Sometimes, Alfred just needed a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on when he felt useless and tired. He needed a voice to tell him everything would be alright when he was scared and insecure. He needed a stroke of love when he felt despicable and rotten and cursed by what the world forced him to become. 

Arthur would be anything he needed and more. With the time that passed them both, Arthur had made it his sole mission to learn what the American was needing when he was both too stubborn and prideful to ask outright. 

"It's okay," Arthur insisted after a while. "You can just lie down now." 

"But, I still have to organize my paperwork, brush my teeth, and-" 

"You can take one night away from that. Lie down." When Alfred parted his pink lips to object, Arthur added, "Please?" 

The American stared at him for a while, eyes calculating his options. He finally sighed and nodded. Arthur felt a sense of relief while he finally crawled into bed next to him. Arthur pulled the covers over Alfred's bare chest, resting it at his broad shoulders while they slumped at the final opportunity to relax. The Briton watched air fill and deflate his lungs, slow and soft. He reached a hand up, moving messy blonde strands of hair from Alfred's forehead, then gazed softly at his face. 

He was so young, even when the world was forcing him to mature. But, even through floods of blood, dust, and impossible decisions, Alfred's face stayed warm. His tan skin stayed soft, with only a subtle scar under his right eyebrow. His lashes rested softly against his round cheeks, reminding Arthur of long strands of pure gold like what he'd obsessed over when first discovering America; but, this colour was so much more valuable. It truly was one of a kind, being a perfect match to Alfred's navy blue eyes, which both shined like the sea in the afternoon's clear light, and the same colour against the sky just before a storm. That didn't make sense, Arthur knew that, how such drastically different shades of blue could hold Alfred's eyes, but he never could think clearly when looking into Alfred's gaze.

"I'm so done with work," Alfred sighed after a while of silence. Arthur didn't even realize how long it'd been since they'd initially laid down. "All this country shit, domestic and foreign. I'm done with it all." 

"I know," Arthur said, eyes flickering over Alfred's face for any signs of his usual, self loathing twitch. "I'm sorry." 

Alfred just sighed again. He opened his arms and pulled Arthur into his chest, waiting for the both of them to quit shifting before he breathed again. Arthur waited a moment, feeling his chest move and his strong heart beat loud in his ear. He was so warm, but Alfred always was a furnace of heat.

"Our lives aren't pretty. It's enough to drive any mortal insane. I feel it's only fitting we loathe and hate it ourselves, even if we can't escape it." 

"What if I flew away?" Alfred mumbled. The hot air from his breath made Arthur's hair tickle his scalp. "What if I just packed a bag with some necessities, some cards, and my Wesson .38 and hauled ass to some remote island?" 

"Well, I think you'd get bored very quickly. You'd get a good rest the first month, then you'd get fidgety and restless and guilty." Alfred gave a humourless scoff at Arthur's words. 

"Maybe I wouldn't." 

"Let's say you don't, then, even with your urge for something to do. Let's say you do find an island where everything is perfect and out of sight from the world. You still wouldn't be happy." 

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

"Because, you wouldn't be here, helping people," Arthur said. Alfred didn't respond, just breathed softly, so Arthur continued. "You love to help people, Alfred. You feel useless if you aren't, you become heartbroken when you can't be someone's hero. If you left away from here, you'd feel guilt beyond the ache for rest you have now."

Alfred kept quiet against him once he finished. Arthur let him ponder over his words, content with warming his hands on Alfred's bare back as he traced soft patterns up and down his muscles. 

"I guess you're right," Alfred said after sometime. "I'd also miss you." 

Arthur gave a small scoff of amusement. "Anywhere you go, I'd go with you, love." 

"Thank you." Alfred's voice was becoming sullied by sleep, quiet and throaty. 

"Goodnight, Alfred," Arthur whispered. The American seemed to already be halfway asleep when he responded, voice slurred and barely there. 

"G'night, Artie."

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, I kinda forced myself to sit down and write this in an effort to get out of my writer's block. I didn't know what I was doing with this until like halfway through but decided to post it anyway oops. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!


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